Unchained Melody
by ShatteredRhapsody
Summary: SEQUEL TO DRIFTING THROUGH TIME. AU/NOT CANON COMPLIANT Very little was known to the Outside World of Hobbits. Knowledge of them was basic compared to the steadfast secretive nature of the Dwarves. And that's just how the Hobbits liked it, but with dark times ahead, some secrets are meant to be revealed.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey, welcome back! So this continues right after Drifting Through Time and will be completely AU. I've fudged the timelines and ages of characters to suit the flow of this story and I apologize for any mistakes or errors.**

Gorbadoc Brandybuck loved all his children dearly, but even he had to admit that he had an obvious favorite. It wasn't an uncommon notion to have a favorite child; the families in the Shire tended to have quite a lot of children and managing them all always took a toll on the parents. Even with the age requirement to join the Bounders, they were still such a hassle. But his youngest child was also his oldest; she just happened to mature at a much slower rate than the rest of his children. But what could one expect from a mixed breed of Hobbit and Dwarf?

Before he had gained the title as the Master of Buckland and before he became even remotely aware that Mirabella Took had a romantic interest in him, he was the best of the Bounders. He was a spry thirty-six year old with much to prove and it was whispered throughout the Shire that he would be the next legend after the great 'Bullroarer Took'. Which was quite the compliment since the Brandybuck Clan was more aggressive than most. His family was fiercely loyal and a bit on the strict side, but they functioned well in Buckland.

It was no wonder that he gladly offered his aid to a caravan of Dwarrows seeking assistance with a goblin problem in the Blue Mountains. It was there he met Luella daughter of Lorís and one of the best warriors he had ever met on the battlefield. There was little time for romance in the middle of a bloodbath, but he was mesmerized by her grace and efficiency when it came to beheading goblins trying to stab her in the back. She was different from the other Dwarrows in the caravan in both appearance and mannerisms; she was also quite isolated amongst them despite her prowess with a blade. When he had inquired why to one of the others, he was given a gruff response that she was an abomination between races. A bit alarmed and altogether very curious, Gorbadoc asked for his companion to further explain how and why. At the older dwarf's explanation, Gorbadoc's eyebrows rose well into his hairline.

" _Well, now. That is an odd mix."_

" _Aye. You cannae fault her for her parentage though. Luella is as strong as they come and she's damn near the best fighter out of all of us, Elvish father or no._

Maybe that was why he was so dazzled by her. She was a slim dwarrowdam with hair a mixed shade of hay and a touch of starlight. Her bright blue eyes entranced him like no other and when he had expressed his wish to court her, he had been sent flying.

Literally.

There was nothing more foolish than a Brandybuck in love and Luella was impressed by his persistence to at least get to know her. That and he was a dab hand at crafting with leather; something she discovered when they stopped over at a tannery to resupply. He made intricate braided bridles for her pony and the saddle he had spent weeks on was the envy of all. When he had spoken of his people in his beloved Shire and his rowdy family in Buckland, she had pounced on him wishing to know more. Perhaps they could set up a trade agreement and both their lands could flourish from such an endeavor. When he had readily agreed to the idea, she was so excited that she had given him a celebratory head butt and promptly knocked him out.

When he came to, his head was on her lap and she was apologizing profusely while she ran anxious hands through the curls at his temple. He had reached for her then, a smile of love and acceptance as he sealed his lips to hers—

"Da!"

His second oldest, Rorimac, burst into the tavern and was shaking him so hard his ale spilled from his mug.

"What is it, my boy?"

"It's Luna, Da. We were playing and then Camellia Sackville said—"

Gorbadoc sighed. Those Sackvilles always had something to say about his daughter and he was of half a mind to say something back.

"Is she hurt?" Despite being two decades older than Rorimac, Luna was closer in mental age to his third oldest Amaranth. The tween years were always hard on any parent of the Shire and for one who aged as slowly as his Luna, they had been especially trying.

"No, she's alright. She's at the old forge. She said she'll be making something to settle her nerves."

Of course that's where she would go. She wasn't much for working with steel, but she used the fire from the forge to create other things. Her elaborate sculptures sold well on Market Day when the Dwarrows would come to sell their wares.

"I see. Make sure she gets home on time for supper. Your Ma doesn't like it when she comes home dirty."

"Yes, Da."

He watched his oldest son depart and he felt an old stirring in his heart. While he was happy to have had so many children with his dear Mirabella, a part of him always wondered what kind of children he would have had with Luella if she had lived past Luna's birth. Would they have been craftsmen, farmers, or warriors? Would they have more of his darker hair coloring or the spun silver like Luella's?

"Master Gorbadoc! There are some dwarves here to see you about the next Market Day!"

He supposed he would never know, but he would always dream of the children he never had with his Love. _Enough moping, Gorba. You have work to do._ Her nagging tone echoed in his head and with his mind's eye he could see her standing beside him, eyes stern and lips curled up in a smirk.

 _Yes, dear._


	2. Awake My Soul

Chapter 1: Awake My Soul

Much like she was in her previous life, Luna Magnolia Brandybuck—formerly Luna Lovegood—was a curious child.

From the time she could walk, she toddled after her father everywhere he went. He was her whole world in this strangely familiar place and was so much like the father figures from her past life. He often shared stories of her late mother, so she would always know of her heritage and of where she came from. And he also shared with her everything that was on his mind; it was comforting to have someone able to understand his worries and fears. Despite coming from one of the largest families, they were one of the more reclusive hobbits in the Shire.

Today they were in the heart of Buckland: The Bounder's Headquarters. Word on the Shire grapevine had it that Mormadoc 'Masterbelt' Brandybuck had plans to retire. The Master of Buckland wasn't just a formal title, but it was an actual position of power. Most disputes could be settled amongst the hobbits on their land, but it wasn't matters of hobbits that he Master of Buckland settled. It was the great hedge that grew on their borders that kept out the Old Forest. There had been whispers of late of more dangerous things than Huorns rumbling in the shadows of the Forest. And old 'Masterbelt' had predicted that he was either going to die being trampled by a tree or fighting off whatever was lurking beneath those dark boughs.

It was why Gorbadoc would make his rounds at Headquarters to check on their supplies and the state of their armory. As per the usual, his daughter followed after him with one handed fisted at the hem of her father's shirt and the other clinging to a lion stuffed animal.

"What are sorry state these axes are in," Gorbadoc mumbled while he scribbled away on his notepad. "Good thing Market Day is coming up; we're sure to find a Blacksmith or two discreet enough to fully inspect this for us, eh my dear?"

Luna blinked her big blue eyes up at her father and nodded solemnly. "Be peppered, Da." Just because her speech was slow in progress didn't mean her mind was. Such was the limitations of growing up all over again, but her father usually knew what she meant to say.

"Indeed. Although I do think some of the spears have held up well enough. I don't recall their origin, but they're just a tad too long so they might be of Man or Elvish make. Remind me to have your Uncle Orgulas draw a sketch so we can ask the Rangers if they know how to properly care for them."

"Uncle Orgu draw," she mentally filed it away and focused on the short swords that were next on the inspection list. _Letter openers,_ she chuckled internally and she curled her arm around her stuffed lion to brush her fingertips along the hilts. They wouldn't do much damage against the Huorns, but if they were properly sharpened they could possibly kill the glowing eyes beyond the hedges.

It was why in the ten years since her birth and her mother's death, her father worked relentlessly to open the market to their Dwarven neighbors in the Blue Mountains. He was fortunate enough that the few who vouched for the sincerity of his intent were the remaining Dwarves from the Caravan he had assisted when he had met her mother. It was the mention of his Dwobbit daughter that had many of the Dwarven Council scrambling to reach a compromise with his idea. Especially since the Hobbits had a ridiculously high fertility rate and were now obviously compatible enough to carry and deliver half Dwarf, half Hobbit children.

There were concerns, of course.

The Thain of Tookborough, the Baggins of Hobbiton, and the Mayor of Michel Delving received floods of letters and complaints from the Hobbits on their lands who were terrified that they were going to be used as brood mares and whisked away by the Dwarves. That particular hurdle was something Luna remembered quite vividly; she was seven at the time and was barely learning to use the words she was unable to voice. She sat on her father's knee attempting to practice her letters while the roar of the heads of the main lands of the Shire thundered inside of Brandy Hall:

 _"You want to put the lives of the good folk of the Shire at risk for some protection from one of the greediest races in Middle-Earth? Mormadoc, has your son lost his wits?!"_

 _"My son can speak for himself you soft-footed—"_

 _"Father, please!" Gorbadoc had his hands over his impressionable daughter's ears while she 'obliviously' grinned up at her grandfather._

 _"Thoft f't, Gampa."_

 _"Greedy they may be, but you cannot believe that is all there is to them! Look at us," Gerontius Took gestured towards the six of them seated at the table, "The Hobbits of the Shire are more than farmers and vegetable contests." The Took Clan was one of the major supporters of the Bounders since they were well aware of how severely weak hobbits seemed to the Big Folk._

 _Mungo Baggins nodded in agreement. "Sorry Peter, but even we know that the weapons we have now would be useless against an outside threat and the Rangers that protect us can only spread their number along our borders for so far. And Mormadoc's son is the only other hobbit outsides our kin in Bree who know about the integrity of the Dwarves. And it would be a smart move to try mixing in with them."_

 _"Do you hear yourself? You're a Baggins! Where's your sense of propriety here?! You want us to breed with their kind to create an…an abomination between races—"_

 _Luna could feel her father's hands on her ears tremble with anger, and her grandfather looked ready to break his chair over the head of the Mayor. But it was Mungo who came to their defense once more._

 _"You know as well as I do that we can only breed so much between our clans before we can't anymore! Yes, there are many of us, but how long until everyone is related? Have you forgotten exactly_ why _old Maggot's Da had to breed his dogs from outside the Shire?"_

 _"That's not—"_

 _The Old Took thumped his cane on the floor to gain their attention. He had thought long and hard about Gorbadoc's idea to trade with the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains and although Gorba had experience fighting with them, Gerontius had the most experience dealing with them. He was not so old that he had forgotten when Dwarves would pass through the Shire searching for work and their quality had always been superb. They were a brutally honest kind of folk, but their hearts were in the right place. Greedy they may be, but what race wasn't? He knew his Great Smial was highly coveted amongst the hobbits, but he wasn't likely to give that up anytime soon. And Dwarves had no love for living under the rolling hills of the Shire; they preferred to carve out their living arrangements from stone and mountains. And with their female population so low, they wouldn't dare mistreat a female match without serious repercussions. However this particular matter did seem almost too big for the small folk of the Shire…_

 _"I say we give it a try. I'll send a message to the Chieftan of the Rangers and one to Lord Elrond of Rivendell. I'm sure one of them will vouch for the sincerity of the Dwarves."_

 _Peter Potts, the Mayor of Michel Delving, huffed in his seat but knew when he was defeated. The Thain's word was practically law and even he would not pursue an argument._

 _Mormadoc chuckled under his breath and lifted his grandchild from her father's arms. "When you do get into contact with them, Gerontius, can you arrange an escort for Luna and her father to travel to the Blue Mountains? Luna's existence should be proof enough to satisfy the Dwarves that a union between a Dwarf and Hobbit is possible and that children are well taken care of and_ cherished." _He bit out the last word with a low snarl in the Mayor's direction. Mixed breed child she may be, but his granddaughter was of his blood and no one spoke of his kin as if they were a crime against nature._

 _The Mayor predictably hunched his shoulders and winced in shame. If he spoke out of turn like that again, he would lose support of more than just the Master of Buckland, but also the Old Took as well. The three of them were always on thin ice when it came to each other to begin with, and the Mayor wanted to avoid any kind of trouble at all costs._

Luna blinked and came back to the present; her father was lifting her into his arms to carry her out of the armory. They were supposed to check on the pens next. There were ponies and war rams to inspect for poor health and then they would be on their way to the Training Arena to observe the training of the newest Bounders.

"Da?" She nuzzled her father's cheek with her nose. "When my turn?"

"I know you want to learn how to fight, my dear girl. But maybe in a few years when your words develop better. Now we best finish our rounds or else you'll be late to your lessons with Miss Donnammira. We still need to find your Craft."

Finding one's Craft was of high importance in the Dwarven culture and most tended to know what it was they wanted to do before they reached adulthood. Luna was no different except for that fact that she wanted to learn pretty much everything. She wanted to create things as well as fight and regain her skills as the warrior she used to be; that tended to be difficult when her body refused to keep up with her fast-developing mind.

 _If I can't even pick up a bow or sword by the time I'm thirty, I swear to Thrór that heads will roll._

 **A/N: At this point in time, Luna is around 10-12 years old. Peter Potts is a character that's possibly made up—I say possibly because 'Potts' was the name of the supposed Mayor before Will Whitfoot took the position during the War of the Ring. This has been a struggle for me since I'm so used to writing in drabble format, but here's to hoping that you all still enjoy it! Thank you for reading and please review to let me know how you liked it.** **J**


	3. Little Talks

"There goes Loony Luna. It's no wonder she doesn't have any friends!"

 _Some things never change,_ Luna thought to herself while she trailed after her grandfather into Hobbiton. She already wanted to be back home in Brandybuck Hall with her siblings, but she knew how important it was for her to make the journey to the Blue Mountains. Her father would have been the best choice to go, but her grandfather had more experience with dwarrows and claimed he knew the best way to get their attention.

...knowing her grandfather it was either something very clever or very foolish.

 _"You watch out for him, Little Love. Your grandfather tends to be more rambunctious than most and he needs a strong soul to keep him in line." Her father whispered into her ear during their last embrace before he sent her on her way to his father's cart and pony._

 _"I'll do my best, Papa."_

"Come along, my dear girl!" Marmadoc Brandybuck bellowed from his seat on the cart. "If this pony outruns you, I expect a dozen laps around the perimeter of Buckland when we get back!"

Luna groaned and picked up the pace. Her father didn't want her training to become a Bounder until she was at least twenty-five winters, but her grandfather was still Master of Buckland and the Master's word was as good as the law and if he wanted his oldest granddaughter to train to be better than the Dúnedain Rangers, then she was going to start when he said so. Although he might have gone a little overboard with the heavy bag of grain she balanced over her shoulders-she was getting flashbacks of her old world's Beorn and his 'strength-training methods' that involved lifting cows. Fighting back a shudder at the memories, she grit her teeth and did as her grandfather ordered.

Getting through to Michel Delving was going to be utter Hell with how much her family was disliked by the Mayor, who she still thought was an idiot of epic proportions. And if her past history taught her anything, it was that his successor was bound to follow in his idiotic footsteps. However, as foolish as it was, she had some hope that things would be different. This time around, she'd be there to watch Bilbo grow and he wouldn't be the timid and lonely bachelor who had to go across Middle Earth to find himself. Actually, she was pretty sure that part still had to happen, but maybe he'd be less alone than before. She and her father had made great strides to improve their relations with the Took clan and she was becoming fast friends with Belladonna, who didn't find her at all strange like the other hobbits did.

The two of them were thick as thieves and were constantly causing trouble between their borders. Just last spring, they tumbled out of a tree and startled the passing Elven delegation from Rivendell. They were the shame of the Shire, but the twin sons of Lord Elrond were not offended by their antics, for it was they who broke their fall with their stubborn, thick heads. Meeting the twin sons again brought an ache in Luna's heart that she wasn't entirely expecting; a part of her knew how hard it was going to be to see the faces of those she left behind while the souls within them did not know her. It was going to be quite hard, she told herself, to bury her past memories when she interacted with them all again. But past friendships could be re-forged into something new and better. It would just take patience and a caring heart; the latter she had in spades, but the former was a test unlike any other she had experienced in her combined hundred plus years of living.

There were still some nights that she woke up with a scream of agony ready to released from her lips; dreams that were so real she would have given everything she had to go back to them. She had made her bed and it was time she learned to lay in it. But how she missed her One! She often wondered if he would know as readily as he had before. Would he feel the earth beneath his feet tilt and watch the stars fade away until it was just the two of them once more? More often than not, she would catch herself weeping silently at her loss and only her hope that they would meet again kept her will to keep going strong. Sometimes it hurt that she had no one to confide in; no great, grumpy King to lend her aid in life experiences or a sword-sister to mope about with when she had no one to train with.

On the other hand, she had gained more than she would have thought possible. She had been fortunate to be born into the Brandybuck Clan and her father had begun to court Miss Mirabella Took. Based off of her past history with the hobbits, she knew very well that she was about to gain seven additional siblings in the coming twenty or so years if the current timeline stayed intact. She had never had siblings of her own before, she so was excited at the prospect of experiencing such a thing. Nevermind all the whining Ronald would do in her past life, but she would have greatly loved to have a brother or sister to bond with and care after. Maybe then someone else would be able to experience the Hell their grandfather would put upon them for Bounder training!

Speaking of Bounder training, that was the primary reason they were on their way to the Blue Mountains. The Elven delegation had been delighted to discover that the gentlefolk of the Shire were interested in bettering their homeland's defenses, but weren't all too helpful in the training department. They showed the hobbits how to use a bow and some very bare basics of swordplay, but the main problem was that they honestly weren't sure how to handle the height differences. Centuries of living and that was the one thing that had them stumped. Elrohir had suggested the hobbits look to their closest neighbors who were of relatively equal size and stature. Their dealings with the dwarrow of the Iron Hills was mostly mediated through Lord Elrond, but they were too far to request aid for something so inconvenient. Marmadoc had jumped on that opportunity, borrowed one of the Lord Elrond's messenger birds, then disappeared into Brandybuck Hall to await a reply. When the reply was given, he emerged with a cart loaded up with old chests that had seen better days along with some sacks filled with supplies. He wasted no time in snatching up his grandchild and declaring that they would be going out for a bit of a walk before his oldest son stepped in and demanded an explanation.

Luna had a vague idea of what her grandfather's plan could possibly be, but she kept her theories to herself. Her grandfather was what Miss Mirabella referred to as an "odd duck" and that not even the other Heads of the Shire Clans weren't quite sure how to deal with him and recommended just letting him have his way. He was more likely to voice what was on his mind during a one-on-one conversation anyway.

They passed through Michel Delving with little trouble. And by little, Luna meant she got into a tussle with a Chubb boy who threw a rock at their cart while her grandfather lapsed into old Hobbitish and proceeded to cuss out the Mayor for trying to delay their journey. Very few would openly oppose the Master of Buckland whether or not he was on his own land and even fewer would try to talk him down face to face.

…..

"We're lost aren't we?"

"My dear, we are _not_ lost."

"If you say so, grandfather." Luna leaned back against the cart and rolled her shoulders now that they were free of their previous burdens. By the Valar, but the tween years were taking a toll on her patience. The growth spurts were a pain due to her mixed heritage, but Brandybucks had a tendency to be on the tall side as both her father and grandfather stood at nearly four feet. And because of her odd height and appearance-odd by hobbit standards-she had made very few friends during a time of what was considered prime socializing time by hobbit society. _It figures,_ she sighed, _that I wouldn't fit in over there._ It was a pity that she couldn't become a recluse and avoid contact with the other clans of the Shire; there was no such thing as an antisocial hobbit. At least, not an _openly_ antisocial hobbit as there was one currently circling the outcrop of stone at the base of the mountain.

"Grandfather, I'm sure we can go back and ask directions from that nice-" she watched the elder hobbit reach out to touch the stone in front of them and felt lightning race up her spine. She didn't know why she was grinning ear to ear, but her grandfather knew and gestured for her to come closer. Her knees hit the dirt when she was close enough and she could feel the vibrations from the mountain before her palms even reached the stone. "Grandfather, this is…"

"Yes, it is. Luna dear, have I ever told you about your great-great grandfather's legacy?"


	4. Dirty Hands and Dirty Paws

If Marmadoc had to be truly honest, their family's legacy extended farther back from before The Wandering Days. Gordenhad Oldbuck had began it all with his stubbornness, something his entire clan had inherited in spades.

"As you know," he began while eyeing the sword positions his only grandchild was practicing, "we Hobbits originated in the Vales of Anduin nearby the Misty Mountains and the Greenwood. When the _rot_ started to appear along the borders of the Wood, many of our folk decided to take their chances and travel west to Eriador, or the Shire as you know it. But our ancestor Gordenhad believed our kind could persevere and our clan continued to brave the dangers along the Anduin until the dangers pressed too close."

"Is that why our family came after the Baggins and Tooks, Grandpa?"

"In a manner of speaking. By the time the rest of us crossed the Misty Mountains, we also brought a little extra with us. Erebor was still rather young, a mere mining community not yet in its prime, and a talented dam followed after our ancestor. She was impressed with his tenacity and motivation to improve the life for his clan and became his wife by the time the Thainship was granted to us Hobbits-"

"But that can't be right! Bella says that her Da says that Bucca of Marish came first and that-"

"Oh, that. Oddly convenient the distant cousin of our Gordenhad was," he continued as though he hadn't been interrupted, "Bucca was wily enough to know how to brave the dangers of an untamed land. He was the only Hobbit with a head for plans and how to handle himself and our clan in a fight. By the time Gordenhad and the rest of our lot arrived in the Shire, he and his intended realized one very big problem with their courtship-along with those in a similar situation-and it was that they would live far longer than the average hobbit would. So Oldbuck and his bride founded Buckland and handed over the tile of Thain to the Tooks. And as for our name of 'Brandybuck' that was because-"

"I know, Grandfather," Luna sighed with a roll of her eyes. Everyone knew how their ancestor chose the name what with settling by the Brandywine River; it faintly felt of home after their people had left the Anduin.

"Don't you sass me, young lady. That was merely the introduction to the start of our legacy. Our ancestor and his dam sired many children; all 'Dwobbits' just like yourself. And of his youngest children came my grandfather-don't you dare open your mouth, I know what you're about to say-Gormadoc. He had earned his title as 'Deepdelver' because had better Stone Sense than the rest of his siblings. He was the one to excavate Oldbuck Hall while his siblings built Brandy Hall hence the epigraph given to him when he chose to inherit the title of Master." Considering their clan tended to produce many children, the 'Master of Buckland' only became the Master if he so chose to be; otherwise it would be offered to the next in line.

"Now just as his father did, he also chose a dam to be his bride. Grandmother Malva would have loved to have met you, my dear girl. The two of you are so alike in mannerisms and appearance. You've got her nose, did you know? Very subtle dwarvish trait we've all inherited. It was particularly strong in their three children, one of which was my father, Madoc. I'll tell you, but it wasn't his Craft, or lack thereof, that got him his bride who was-"

"-Is there a dam in every generation of our family?"

"Just about. My Ma, Hanna Goldworthy was a true sight to behold. A bold and cunning lass from the Iron Hills, she met my father when he volunteered to aid the Dwarves after they experienced a poor harvest and I don't know about you, but Dwarves are not the best of farmers. I'm not sure if my father chose to help because he felt the call of his One or simply because he felt it was the right thing to do. Either way, I would not be here, nor your father, nor you, if not for that decision. Excluding your late grandmother," he wasn't entirely sure since he knew the Bolgers tended to be massive flirts with anything with a heartbeat and eyes, "there has been at least one dam in our family at a time, so whatever buried talents each one of us has, it is because we are Dwobbits, my dear. We are just like you."

Luna's mind was blown the second he even mentioned their Dwarvish heritage. This certainly explained just _why_ they were barely a part of the Shire. Hobbits only lived to be at least eighty years old and any longer than that would attribute to good health and a heaping dose of good fortune. One of the other Clans had to know; there was no way they wouldn't suspect a thing!

"Grandfather, do the Tooks know?"

"Oh, aye, of course they know. They'd have to be deaf, blind, and dumb not to. Gerontius has always known; after all, he is fifty years my junior and I wouldn't doubt if he hasn't noticed just how slowly I've aged over the years. The Baggins have an inkling, but they wouldn't dare voice it. We're already too strange and different-minded for them to fully comprehend the truth. But there are stranger truths than our family."

"Stranger how?" She really didn't think it could get much stranger than that.

"Well, how about _you_ for example?"

Luna's breath stopped in her chest and she struggled not to let her back stiffen in shock. "I...I'm not sure I know what you mean, Grandfather."

"Come now, Azaghîth," he barked with laughter, "Surely, you don't think I haven't noticed? Your eyes are older than even my own and you are far too fearless to have come from my blood alone. Are you a Changeling, then? A Fae child from the Tooks' legends and lore?"

Oh, Luna did not like that look in her grandfather's eyes. He was onto her and she really, really, _really_ did not like lying to family.

"I'm afraid it's much more different than that, azaghâl belkul."

"Is it now? Well, I've told you my story and I do believe it's time you told me yours."

She told him nearly everything.

Her original birth, how she once was a magical being who could travel between worlds at magic's whim. The friends she had made and the loved ones she had lost. She told him of how she found her One and how much she had sacrificed just to try it all over again.

"...I was much closer to the Baggins than the Tooks or even the Brandybucks. But all the families of the Shire were always kind to me and made sure I always felt welcome to spend more time with them. Maybe that's why I was reborn as one of your kin? I seem to be the happiest in Buckland."

"Well, that and you're certainly the most reckless besides myself and your Da. Naturally, you'd fit right in. But what a sad tale you have shared. To have found your One and have it all quite literally ripped away from you. Such strength you have! And you said that you have Guides in this world, but they were not revealed to you before you started over?"

"No," Luna sighed and rested her head on her grandfather's shoulder, "that's the worst part! I don't know who would remember me or even _if_ they can remember me at all," she felt tears gathering in her eyes and she sniffled a bit. "I've never felt more lost than the time I had to guide King Thrór to Aulë's Halls. The line of Durin has no sense of direction-"

Marmadoc threw his head back and laughed before slapping his granddaughter on the back good naturedly. "My dear, you do realize that technically we are also descended from the line of Durin? My mother came from the Iron Hills, you see." He tapped the side of his nose with his index finger and he ducked when his unruly grandchild threw an apple at him.

"Hey now, don't go wasting the traveling rations!"

"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves," she grumbled under her breath and went to retrieve the apple she had carelessly thrown.

"I wouldn't get into too much of a snit if I were you. We are rather close to New Belegost and we don't want to offend anyone. Maybe we'll find someone who remembers you."

"I doubt it. I really don't recall much about this area during my visits to Middle Earth. Geographical history wasn't something I was particularly interested in."

...

New Belegost was carved from the side of the mountain, rather than almost completely under it like its prior location and the guards stationed at the entrance did look rather intimidating. She hoped her grandfather knew what he was doing since she didn't really recognize these dwarrows from her trips to Market Day-

"Good day, fine sir! Do you happen to know if the visiting Lord from Erebor is still in town?"

Luna almost fell out of the cart. That really wasn't the best of ways to approach a guardsman based off her prior knowledge of having to deal with them in her past life.

"Oh, aye. He's here alright. Who is requesting his presence?"

Her grandfather grinned and it was all teeth before he bowed with a flourish. "Marmadoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland, at your service."

The guardsman's eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline before he grunted and bowed respectfully in return. "You gave me quite the surprise, Master Brandybuck. You look the same as you did forty years ago and I had assumed that hobbits aged quickly during that time."

"It's alright Arvûl, she knows."

Arvûl, the intimidating guardsman, let his shoulders drop in relief and a sheepish grin peeked out from under his beard. "Och, well. I had to make sure. We've been keepin' this a secret since her birth."

Luna could feel her eye beginning to twitch. She had patience for several lifetimes, yes, but this was starting to push her limits. _What, does_ everyone _know?_

Marmadoc gave his old friend a dismissive wave and smiled. "I have business with some folk in town. Would you be so kind as to escort Luna to the visiting Lord? She wishes to know more of our kin's culture."

 _He's knows something,_ Luna thought to herself while keeping a straight face. Oh, but if looks could kill… Her grandfather knew far more than he should have and he had also been too accepting of her story. That, and as Arvûl led her away, her grandfather's conspiratorial grin and accompanied wink only increased her ire against him.

She was brought to a grand hall and then further into what she assumed was a receiving room of some kind. It was hardly luxurious, but it was comforting all the same. The guardsman let her know that the Lord was currently in a meeting, but he would come to speak with her as soon as he finished.

"That's alright. I'm sure I'll find something to amuse myself with…" she trailed off as her eyes caught sight of a large tapestry hung from across the door. _Oh,_ her heart stuttered in her chest, _this is a sight._

It was a map of Middle-Earth and it showed mostly just the Dwarven settlements, but what caught her attention the most was the attention to the detail of each Dwarven city; especially Erebor. She didn't even hear the guard excuse himself nor the door that closed behind him. She reached out and traced the stitching that spelt out _Ered Luin_ , past the Shire, and further east to the Misty Mountains.

She hadn't even realized she had been humming an old tune that would not exist in this lifetime. It was becoming harder to breathe and her eyesight grew hazy with tears. She had not heard or spoken of the old song; not since she left her old world behind and harassed every verse out of a tipsy Glóin.

Her heart heavy, she began to sing quietly:

 _Far over the misty mountains cold_  
 _To dungeons deep, and caverns old_  
 _We must away ere break of day  
_ _To seek the pale enchanted gold._

Her hand still traveled slowly until it settled just over the Lonely Mountain and she gripped the fabric of the tapestry in a fist.

 _The dwarves of yore made mighty spells_  
 _While hammers fell like ringing bells_  
 _In places deep, where dark things sleep_  
 _In hollow halls beneath the fells._

Oh, how she could remember playing in those halls as a young witch filled with the excitement of the world around her.

 _For ancient king and elvish lord,_  
 _There many a gleaming golden hoard_  
 _They shaped and wrought, and light they caught  
_ _To hide in gems on hilt of sword._

The first time she met Thorin before he had gained his epithet, she must have shocked the life out of him to just appear and disappear out of the blue like that. How she missed Thrór and his family! There was a time when so many exceptions were made for her; very few could claim the right to sit on the mighty King Thrór's lap and hide their head under his beard.

 _On silver necklaces they strung_  
 _The flowering stars, on crowns they hung_  
 _The dragon-fire, in twisted wire  
_ _They meshed the light of moon and sun._

She could have saved so many if she had only known how. Why, she would have gladly fought down the dragon if it meant sparing her loved ones the pain. Unfortunately, even she knew that if Smaug had not come, she would not have met her other friends across Middle Earth.

 _Far over the misty mountains cold_  
 _To dungeons deep and caverns old_  
 _We must away, ere break of day,  
_ _To claim our long-forgotten gold._

"Now, there's a song I never thought I would hear again. At least not in this world, as changed as it is." A soft voice spoke from behind her and her heart leapt up into her throat.

Reluctantly, she released her hold on the tapestry and turned to see a Dwarf she had not seen in nearly an Age.

"Hopefully," she cleared her throat to suppress her rising sobs, "Hopefully, there will never be a cause for it to be sung with so much longing."

"Aye, that is a thing to hope for. You know, lassie, you're much shorter and younger than when I saw you last." His kind eyes crinkled at the corners, much like his son's eyes would do the same.

"W-Well, you were also d-dead at the time, s-so it's safe to assume that your m-memory is shoddy," she gave a watery chuckle before her expression crumpled and she ran into his waiting arms.

" _Fundin!_ "

* * *

The remainder of The Misty Mountains Cold lyrics:

 _Goblets they carved there for themselves_  
 _And harps of gold; where no man delves_  
 _There lay they long, and many a song_  
 _Was sung unheard by men or elves._

 _The pines were roaring on the height,_  
 _The winds were moaning in the night._  
 _The fire was red, it flaming spread;_  
 _The trees like torches blazed with light._

 _The bells were ringing in the dale_  
 _And men looked up with faces pale;_  
 _Then dragon's ire more fierce than fire_  
 _Laid low their towers and houses frail._

 _The mountain smoked beneath the moon;_  
 _The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom._  
 _They fled their hall to dying fall_  
 _Beneath his feet, beneath the moon._

 _Far over the misty mountains grim_  
 _To dungeons deep and caverns dim_  
 _We must away, ere break of day,_  
 _To win our harps and gold from him_

Translations:  
Azaghîth -Little warrior  
azaghâl belkul -mighty warrior

 **A/N: I would like to thank those who have patiently waited for me to write out this chapter. You guys are the best and as always, you are more than welcome to message me about questions or possible theories you may have. Just knowing that someone enjoys my progress so far is enough to motivate me to keep writing. Thank you so much!**


	5. Home Sweet Home

"There, now. Dry your tears, _madtithbirzul._ "

Fundin would never admit to how much his own hands shook when he opened the receiving room doors after hearing a forgotten song echoing down the hall. Just like now, he would rather eat hot coals than admit how dreadfully alone he felt despite being alive and able to see his family grow up this time around. Some days it grew harder not to say all the things that were on his mind, yet he refrained in order to keep the peace.

But this little lass…

She clung to him in desperation while sobbing as if her whole world had just righted itself. It wouldn't be too far from the truth; after all, he was filled with just as much relief when she replied in recognition to his words.

"Hush, child. That's enough tears for today," he cradled her as closely as he had done with his own sons and rocked her gently until her sobs tapered off into watery hiccups.

" _I'm so sorry,"_ she kept signing in _iglishmêk_ since she was still too upset to use her own voice.

Fundin felt his heart fill with tenderness and sat them down on a chair. He covered her wee hands with his own to stop her from signing and leaned until his forehead met hers.

"Do not ever be sorry for the great things you have done and the terrible things you have had to endure," he waited patiently until she opened her eyes to look at him and nod as if to accept his words.

"You Durins," she laughed softly, "smooth talkers the lot of you." She coughed and rested her head upon his shoulder. "It's been so hard, you know," her voice was as small as she felt, "I've been wanting to search for my old family but no one remembers me."

"Aye, I can believe that. I wasn't even sure _you_ would be here when I was also reborn." He idly finger combed her hair. It was just as long as he remembered and he briefly wondered why she no longer wore her familial braids before realizing it wouldn't make any sense for her to do so in this time.

"Have...Have you met any others?" _Who also remember me?_ went unsaid because she honestly could not ask it of him. This was overwhelming enough for the both of them.

"My cousins have given me no inclination that they remember their past lives, but Thrór did show some promise. After claiming the Arkenstone as his right to rule, he did not covet it as intensely as his previous self. Perhaps the lack of a dragon in his mountain may have aided this change in personality." That had to be one of the more surprising lack of events in his life thus far. He had honestly thought the dragon would come and leave them homeless once more but so far...Balin's monthly reports on the state of the mountain left him with no cause for concern. Was this what his friend's sacrifice had earned them all?

"They're _all_ _alive?_ "

"Mostly all. The Battle of Azanulbizar still took place." At her incredulous look, he held his hands up as a gesture of peace, "I know, I know. I was surprised despite how loudly others and myself protested against it. Dáin is Lord of the Iron Hills once more and his advisors are as imbecilic as I recall they were for his father. And Thorin is next in line to be crowned King Under the Mountain. Thrór did not-lass, I don't think Thrór was meant to live past the battle in any lifetime." He ended sadly and gave her a quick hug, "If it makes you feel any better, I am certain he remembered your tips on how to thoroughly torment King Thranduil during important meetings. He always did look far too smug for his own good whenever a messenger would announce the Elven King's arrival."

"He looked just past Thranduil's head when speaking to him, didn't he?" Luna snorted at how she had discovered that particular pet peeve of the Elven King's and the childish glee on Thrór's face when she had shared that piece of information with him.

"Aye. You could cut the tension with a knife during the meetings." Fundin chuckled at just how high the mountain's anxiety ran during those times. Prince Thráin would beside himself with frustration at his father's antics and if one Prince was flustered, the entire mountain would be flustered.

A combination of a sob and a laugh escaped from her and she groaned at the oncoming headache. "I need an ale for this kind of stress," she rubbed at her face with her hands. "I feel so much older than I am, Fundin."

"Speaking of old," Fundin gave her a long stare, "how old are ye right right now?"

She cracked a grin, "You sly dog. As if having two sons wasn't enough for you," she joked and teasingly stroked his beard. She waited until there was nearly steam coming out of his ears before she relented, "I'm past the Hobbit majority in Hobbit years, but I'd say I'm just barely out of dwarfling adolescence."

"Good enough, you shameless hussy. Let's go get that ale."

….

When his granddaughter said she had a past, she certainly wasn't jesting. Mormadoc leaned against the door frame and held a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Lord Fundin and his dear Little Luna were sitting _on the table_ with what appeared to be an armada of empty ale mugs surrounding them. The two of them were drunkenly caterwauling what could have possibly been an old Dwarvish Tale, but the _khuzdul_ they were trying to speak was so broken and slurred that, according to Mormadoc's vast memory, they were actually praising the massive genitals of their ancestors.

"Grandfather!" Luna widely swung her ale mug around and nearly took off Fundin's head with it. "Och, sorry that," she giggled and shakily got to her feet. "Lord Fundin and I are rem-remi-reminisching about the good ol' days from the-och, _mahumb_." She swore when she tripped over a mug and landed on her back. She let out the equivalent of "for fucks sake" in _khuzdul_ and got smacked about the face by an irate Fundin.

"Language, lassie! The elderly and their _delicate sensibilities_ are out and about." He added with a sneer to the Master of Buckland and started laughing uproariously when said Master decided to join them.

"Ye call this ale ye _:filthy sack of orc dung!:_ Oh, I'll drink the both of ye under the table!" Internally, he knew he should not have let the Old Hobbitish slip, but in the company of his mother's kin, his accent and common decency tended to escape him.

Luna laughed heartily as the world swam around her in a drunken blur. Oh, it was good to feel at peace again; even if it was just for the moment.

 _Hangovers, no matter when they happen, are always murderously agonizing,_ Luna thought to herself when she awoke feeling like she had drank a lake full of ale. "I'm going to throw up," she mumbled into the belly of which her face was laying upon.

What really came out was "muh-guh-a-row-muh" and she got swatted on the back of the head, which really sent her world spinning.

"That's mah _amad_ you're insultin'!" Came the drunken slurring of her grandfather and just the sound of his voice grated on her tender hearing.

"I din'na know ye still had in in ya, boy." Wheezed a bleary-eyed Fundin who was weighted down by the Dwobbit on his belly. "Thought ye had forgotten all yer _khuzdul_ since ya ne'er speak it anymore."

"I'll have you know that I _-hic-_ learned all the rules to secrecy from your lot! The other Hobbits are _not ready_ to know how much longer we've been alive than them!" Mormadoc instantly regretted raising his voice judging by how suddenly nauseous he had become.

"Is tha' why ye shave yer beard so they don't notice? You didn'a think I was blind, did ye?" A drunk Dwarven lord he may have been, but Fundin wasn't Erebor's sharpest advisor for nothing.

"My wife liked my beard, did ye know?" Mormadoc frowned and pulled the mug that was sticking into his back. " _Amad,_ would have loved Luna, don't ye think?" He mused while his breathing began to deepen.

"Aye, 'tis hard not to love such a brave lassie-Ouch!" he leaned over to pinch at her cheeks and got bit for his troubles. "Mahal's hammer and forge," he groaned, "you're a Durin alright."

 **A/N: This is just to tide us all over for the chapter that's coming next. Don't worry, it'll be a lot longer and we'll finally start progressing into the main storyline. The Hobbits need their time in the limelight, don't you think?**

 **Translations:**

 _madtithbirzul -little golden heart  
mahumb -dung  
amad -mother_


	6. Counting Stars

Luna spent the most of her two weeks in New Belegost with her grandfather and old friend. There was just so much to catch up on since Fundin knew more about the changes in this world than she did. Sure, a lot of the 'spending time' was spent in the tavern or yelling over each other in the forge, but Luna wouldn't trade those moments for anything. She even got to see their Raven Aviary and was more than delighted to find out that many of them had come from Erebor.

"Oh, Fundin! Can I keep this one, please!" She turned the full force of her doe eyes on him while she held a young magpie to her chest. She felt a connection with the bird and said bird was already fluttering its wings about in excitement.

"I don't see why not. I'm not really sure how or why a magpie would choose to roost here, but maybe it is a sign that ye were meant to come. And it's good to have a messenger bird of your own; she seems to be a smart one. Don't forget to give her a name though." His eyes held suspicion on the bird since it would consistently avoid any dwarf that would approach it and would only take food after all the other ravens had fed.

Luna let the magpie rest on her palm and she stared deep into its knowing eyes. "I think I will call you Mags," she said and chuckled when it pressed its head to hers, "Yes. Mags the Magpie suits you very well."

"Shall I...leave the two of you alone?" Mormadoc said teasingly and chuckled when his grandchild swatted at his arm.

"Hush, you! We need more Ravens and the like; it'll make communicating the trade routes easier." Luna had big plans for the future and she wanted to thoroughly enjoy her lifetime in this altered world.

Her grandfather's stare was even and steady as he watched her greet the other birds in the aviary; they all seemed to enjoy her company. His eyes met with Fundin's and a slight incline of his head had them stepping back to talk.

"You know, old friend, I wouldn't put it past that girl to have a finger in every pie on Middle Earth. Did you know there hasn't been a Mistress of Buckland in nearly an Age?"

"Aye, and she could easily do it too!" Fundin chuckled and clued the Master in the sheer level of Luna's intelligence based off of what he observed in the the afterlife during her time in their previous world. He explained how she was a social creature who was almost scarily observant and had a knack for convenient chaos. Things she had planned in advance more or less turned out well in their favor and ensured many a victory for her allies. Speaking of allies, it gave him a rather interesting idea.

"You know, Alfrigg is due for a visit soon and is looking for an apprentice to carry on his arts." Fundin gleefully watched as the Master of Buckland became thoughtful before grinning devilishly. Alfrigg, son of Alfrothul, was a Dwarf renowned for being both a Master in the forge and on the battlefield. He was patient, meticulous, and usually a kind and gentledwarf. He didn't needlessly seek out a fight, but given the right cause, he was devastating in battle. His personality easily matched that of Luna's and they both knew that if she could gain her Mastery early, they'd be better prepared for what was to come. To be fair, even they were unsure if history in this world would match that of the history from Fundin's previous life; so many events had already been altered even though a select few remained the same.

It was better for them to be prepared for the unexpected than not at all.

* * *

It was decided that Luna remain in New Belegost to await the arrival of Master Alfrigg and during that wait, she would assist the current Dwarrows in residence with whatever they could teach her. She spent her mornings tending to the animals usually by starting with milking the goats and feeding the ponies. The Ravens could feed themselves, but she always made it a point to visit the aviary before lunch time so she could send a letter home to her father. Oh, how she knew how livid he must have been when her grandfather returned to Buckland alone and it showed in his first letter to her. Thank the Gods that Howlers didn't exist in this world, otherwise her ears would have blistered from the amount of rage that flowed from his words on the parchment. None of it was directed at her, of course, most of it was directed at her grandfather who seemed hell-bent on doing whatever he damn well pleased. Not too surprising as he was still the current Master of Buckland and tended to answer to no one; not even his own family.

Her afternoons were spent brushing up on her khuzdul with Miss Ravit, who was also teaching her how to braid and the different meanings behind each type of braid. "Most braids," she had said during one lesson, "are a variation of a family's signature braid style rather than the clan they had come from. The clan style braids tend to be hidden unless the wearer found it necessary to reveal it." She really enjoyed her lessons with Miss Ravit and she learned so much more than Dwarven History; Miss Ravit was a retired Spy Master from the Iron Hills and occasionally taught her the tricks of the trade.

Hobbits were already quite light on their feet, but the Brandybucks were even more so being descended from the Stoor riverfolk. She learned how to be silent over any type of terrain, which she used to her advantage when she would swipe sweet rolls from the kitchens. Her favorite lessons so far were the one-on-one spars with Fundin.

She could see where his sons earned their prowess with multiple types of weaponry and, with Miss Ravit's training, she fought dirty. Any opening that was given to her, she would take full advantage of and even Fundin grudgingly agreed that it was scarily effective after the hilt of her sword collided with his shin after he had knocked her down.

"Durin's beard, child. I'd say ye already know how to fight well enough to hold yer own in a battle," he said with a glare when she laughed at his wince from the pain that had erupted from the blow to his leg. "My sons would not enjoy fighting against ye, I'll ya that much."

"Or maybe you're just getting old," she said with a grin.

"Children these days," Fundin sighed, "so disrespectful. Yer buying me a pint at the tavern after supper. We have a lot to discuss for the next coming years."

* * *

Her new life living amongst the dwarrows was more or less the same routine. She had discovered quickly that she had little talent in forging weaponry, but she had a keen eye for mining and pinpointing the location of precious gems and minerals. Fundin had said it made sense since the Dwobbit descendents of her ancestor had found their Mastery in either Mining or as Scriveners. Whenever he had free time, he would go over the Durin family tree with her and they both discovered, to Luna's disappointment and Fundin's immense relief, that she held very little chance of ascending to the throne.

"Unless the Fíli in this world is still my One as in the last world," she said in a sing-song tone and Fundin shuddered at the thought. If the two of them ever got a chance to rule, they'd throw the mountain into utter chaos. He quickly changed the topic and continued his lessons on Dwarven culture. He taught her how to carve a general shape for the beads she would wear in her hair as her apprenticeship began, as well as forge beads to show she was descended from the House of Durin. They had mutually decided to hide the beads within her larger braids so they could be revealed at an opportune moment. For now, she would just be one of the many Dwarf/Hobbit hybrids who enjoyed the company and culture of her kin. And that meant getting severely hammered from ale every night and sparring with Fundin until she got him to yield.

By the time Master Alfrigg arrived in New Belegost, there was little else that Luna's instructors had left to teach her. Fundin often wondered why he hadn't just apprenticed her to himself and saved them time from waiting on another Master to assist them. Although it would be beneficial for Luna to have a bit of a review; there was no doubt she wouldn't gain a Mastery in crafting jewelry or forging weapons, but the Scribes in their mountain all but sang her praises whenever they reviewed her work. Her own ancestry and family history had been painstakingly written and stored in the Scriviner Guild's private Archive as it was a precious piece of history that only strengthened their alliance with the Brandybuck Clan of Buckland.

"She has easily gained her Mastery between the two of us," Miss Ravit argued while a drunk Luna snoozed on her lap.

"Aye, but there are rules tha' must be followed. Ye know that," replied Fundin even though he knew she was right.

"Everyone here would vouch for her. She has talent and status so why don't we just induct her to the Scrivener Guild and say she's an apprentice under me for Spy Mastery? Master Alfrigg still hasn't heard of our idea, so his word would mean very little in these circumstances. She's even been personally trained by the Chieftan of the Dúnedain before she came here! It's all but expected of her to have a Mastery by now!"

Wincing by the raised pitch in his Spy Master's tone, Fundin conceded defeat. "I'll speak to the Head of the Scrivener Guild on the morrow."

"As if you didn't already have her Mastery bead forged and the papers ready. I saw you earlier," Miss Ravit grinned and laughed at the flush of red on his face that had nothing to do with the ale they were drinking.

"Damn Spy Master," he growled.


	7. Fantasia

"When can I learn to write in khuzdul?"

Luna looked up from the project on her desk to her younger brother, Rorimac, who pouted down at his own desk. He was twelve years old and absolutely hated not knowing as much as his elder sister did.

"In time, nadadith. Even I'll admit that learning to write khuzdul was difficult, but Uncle Fundin insisted I learn the language before the letters first."

Oh, how she loved having siblings in this world. She could easily see how the Rorimac received his epithet "Goldfather" in her previous life. It seemed he had inherited their great grandmother's coloring in hair; while hers was closer to that of an Elvish platinum blonde, his was that of dazzling golden blond. It reminded her of her One's hair when it was caught in a stream of sunlight.

"Why couldn't you have just brought back the tome of our Clan history from New Belegost if you're already working on the common tongue version? I bet I could learn it then." Rorimac's pout and large green eyes made him look all the more childish, and Luna found herself understanding just what Fred and George meant about the whining of younger brothers.

"Because that was a true treasure that I could not bear to bring on the road with me. How about this, I'll talk with adad and Mama Mira about when to start your written lessons? I cannot guarantee that they will agree-oof!" It's a good thing she had set down her pen and scooted her chair back from her work desk because she suddenly had an armful of faunt.

"Thank you, thank you, sister!" He nuzzled his nose and against her cheek and squeezed his little arms tight around her torso. "I can't wait to tell Amaranth!" Quick as rabbit, he was out of her arms and out the door.

 _Oh bother._

Amaranth was only ten and was much more interested in playing outdoors than being cooped up inside to study. This was not going to go over well if he was given the idea that all his fun time would be stamped out by study time.

Sighing heavily, she looked back at the nearly completed book and ran her finger along the cover's spine. She had intended to sew in the title rather than paint it, but now her mind was on other things like overly excited fauntlings. She stood from her work desk and covered the unfinished work with a thin linen cloth before heading out of the den and into the kitchen.

...

"Mama Mira? Do you need any help with anything?"

"Oh, bless you, darling! I can't seem to reach the casserole dish on the top shelf. I considered getting a stool, but you know how your father is with my condition," Mirabella Took had never been more grateful that her husband's eldest child was taller than the average hobbit. She was always such a sweet and considerate child despite her wild ways and un-hobbitish mannerisms. And she was certainly very gifted with children with how tenderly she treated her half-siblings; Luna was truly a blessing in times like now when Mira felt as big as a house.

"Well you are carrying his fourth son, you know." She retrieved the dish with ease and set it down on the kitchen counter. "Come and sit, Ma. I'll finish this up for you."

"It's no reason for him to treat me like I'm made of lace. I'm not some ninny Bracegirdle, humph!" Mira took the offered seat and sighed contentedly as she watched her daughter flit to and fro to finish the cooking.

"Tooks are rather hardy folk and are constantly underestimated," agreed Luna while she checked the oven's temperature before gently laying the casserole dish onto the rack.

"Well, you'd certainly know more about that than I. Belladonna sent a package for you, by the way. I'm sure she would have delivered herself, but she has her hands full with Bilbo now."

"Oh, dear. Don't tell me he's still insistent on traveling outside the Shire on his lonesome? That's dangerous even for me to do," she said with a frown. Even a Captain of the Bounders knew better than to travel alone unless it was absolutely necessary.

"No doubt that cousin of yours hasn't even gone through his lessons in basic camping and survival due to the Baggins' side thinking he'll have no use for it." It was a trying topic that three of them, Belladonna, Mirabella, and Luna, had often discussed.

"He's going to need those lessons if he even thinks he'll make it passed Tookborough," Luna grumbled before grabbing a chair to sit at her Ma's side.

"That's for certain."

It was a standing and unofficial rule that children of the Shire take survival lessons in their early adolescence as a precaution for wandering faunts who didn't know what and what not to put in their curious mouths or if they were separated from family. It was mostly the Tooks and Brandybucks who enforced this rule for their own children as their land was quite vast and wasn't 100% safe unlike Hobbiton and Michael Delving.

"You'd think Aunt Donna would instill some sense into that boy with how often he accompanies her to the herb gardens," Luna said while rummaging through the knitting basket for some yarn and knitting needles for her Ma.

"Thank Yavanna for small blessings that he at least knows what plants are safe and what are dangerous to the touch. Thank you, dear." Knitting helped calm Mirabella's nerves whenever her unborn babe decided to kick at her innards. "Your brother seems anxious to get out and explore the world," she said while gently rubbing the side of her bulging belly. "Do you mind singing for him as you did before? I feel that it soothes both the babe and I."

"I don't mind at all, Mama." Luna said kindly before gently clearing her throat.

 _Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together?_

 _The wind's in the free-top, the wind's in the heather;_

 _The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,_

 _And bright are the windows of Night in her tower._

No sooner had she begun singing that her third younger brother, Saradas, came waddling out from the nursery with his thumb in his mouth and blanket clutched in hand. He was but a toddler and had recently been put down for his afternoon nap, but the sound of his sister's singing had roused him. She held out her arms to him and he happily went to her to cuddle atop her lap.

 _Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!_

 _Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!_

 _The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;_

 _Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting._

Mirabella let out a content sigh as her rowdy babe ceased his restless movements so she could continue knitting the sweater she was making him. Oh, but her daughter had a sweet and lilting voice that could calm even the most cantankerous of creatures.

 _Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!_

 _Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!_

 _The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!_

 _Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!_

Luna had Elrond's sons to thank for this song as it was the lullaby the Elves of Rivendell had sung to her during her previous life's travels to their land. Lord Elrond had said that it was a common lullaby his wife had sung to his children before she had left for the Undying Lands.

 _Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!_

 _Fall Moon! Dark be the land!_

 _Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn!_

 _Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!_

* * *

"Sweet Merciful Mahal, what in the world are you two _doing_ here?!"

"Well that's a rude thing to say," came the snarky reply of the skin-changer who wore the face of someone Luna knew for damn sure shouldn't have been in this world.

Luna had ventured into the Old Forest to speak with the Ancient Huorns as they had been receptive to her past visits. As much as those in the Shire feared the ancient forest, both the Tooks and the Brandybucks were forever grateful for the protection they granted by gracing the borders of Buckland. So when the Huorn representative had creaked and groaned its report on the state of the forest, she was utterly shocked when it shifted its roots to reveal two large and sleeping forms.

"I apologize, but...but...I saw you die ages ago! Both of you, I might add!"

"Ah, well about that...thanks for helping raise Teddy from before," the second skin-changer said rather timidly.

"You're welcome, Remus. Now about that explanation for _why_ you're both miraculously alive, in different bodies, and specifically _here,_ " she said with a pointed stare.

"You know what they say, death is but the next greatest ad-"

"Finish that sentence and I will skin you."

The Huorn that stood above them creaked slightly and its leaves crinkled and shifted as though it were laughing at them.

Sirius flinched at the threat and shrugged his large shoulders. "In other words, Little Midget, you're not the only one with friends in high places. Touching reunion with your parents back then; Remus cried his eyes out."

"Shut up, Padfoot."

"Anyway, the glowy bastards from up above also offered us a choice as our lives were cut so tragically short," he said with a dramatic sniffle, "and of course we had to come. You worried your friends terribly after the Veil imploded on itself."

"So that's what happened to it," she mused and grinned sheepishly. "At least no one else will be able to fall into it as you did."

"But it was a graceful fall, no?" Sirius grinned right back and swept her up into a hug. "We've been watching you, you know, since before we were reborn here. You're fearless enough to put both Harry and the Weasley terrors to shame."

"Yes, well," she grunted from the force of his hug, "sometimes I have to be." She was set back down and received a much more gentler hug from Remus. "Thank you. I'll have to bring you home with me now. My grandfather would love to meet you since he knows about everything before this. And I'm sure my siblings would love to play with the both of you."

"Siblings? My, this is a vastly different world than the one from before," Remus commented and followed after the young dwobbit as she led them out and away from the forest.

...

Introductions went about as well as expected excluding Mirabella's cry of alarm that sent her into labor, followed by the midwife's shriek of terror that was only mildly drowned out about Luna's siblings' cries of excitement.

"What kind of skin-changer are you?"

"Are you really from the Old Forest?"

"Can we ride you?"

"Boys, boys!" Luna shouted over the ruckus and ruffled her brothers' hair affectionately. "They'll be more than happy to answer your questions later. Rorimac, would you please retrieve adad from the field and Amaranth, please make sure to look after Saradas. I'll bring our guests to grandfather."

"They're so tiny," Sirius cooed and nudged Remus to share his joy. "I just want to hug them forever."

"You're such an old sap. You almost didn't want to give Harry back to Lily after he was born."

"You almost dropped him."

"Shut it."

Luna chuckled over her friends' bickering while she led the way to Brandy Hall. It was pleasant to hear them so care-free, a nice change from how she used to know them. But what a change this was! They had told her that they had been reborn as wolf skin-changers, quite the fit for the former animagus and werewolf. And although she hadn't the heart to question Remus on his quite literal translation of his name in the past, she did laugh uproariously when Sirius had told her his new given name in this world.

"Our wolf mother thought it was most amusing," Sirius had cackled before yelping when his best friend, now brother, slugged him in the shoulder.

"Prat."

She was still giggling when she knocked on the door to her grandfather's study while her grandmother kept their guests occupied with tea and cakes. There may have been some last minute grooming to make them as presentable as they could.

"Ugmil 'adad? I have some friends you might want to meet."

"Considering how few friends you have, I'm assuming they are friends of a larger stature," came the grumbled response from beyond the door. "I'll be right out."

When the Master of Buckland entered the sitting room, he took one look at the skin-changers and began to pout.

His wife, Adaldrida, smiled smugly and held out a hand. "Pay up. They're not presently wizards."

He let out an exasperated sigh and withdrew the money pouch from his trouser pocket. Giving his grandchild a rather intimidating glare, he tossed it to his wife. "Just once you could have brought current wizards, but no, it had to be skin-changers. Well lads, introduce yourselves if you please."

"I am Sirius and this is my brother," he paused for dramatic effect, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "Wülf, sons of Nymeria."

"I hate you," muttered Remus.

"Oh, you poor boy," Marmadoc said with genuine sympathy. "It is nice to finally meet more friends of my dear Luna. I'm sure we can find a smial to accommodate the two of you if you'd like."

Wülf shook his head, "Thank you for the offer, but we are much more used to the outdoors. We can sleep in our animal forms indoors, but we have grown used to patrolling the lands. It's part of why we're here; our Mother wanted us to find our own way as we have outgrown our pack."

"I see. Nevertheless, you are more than welcome to rest in the Main Hall. We've a large fireplace and so few to enjoy its warmth during the cold evenings. If any give you trouble, you let them know that you're guests of Marmadoc Brandybuck. They'll let you alone."

"Our thanks, good Sir. I should also mention that we might have frightened your daughter-in-law into labor and that you have another grandchild on the way," added Sirius with a nervous smile.

"Ah, so you've met our Mirabella then. Good, good. We'll prepare some snacks and gifts to bring to them. I cannot wait to see another beautiful fauntling welcomed into the world."

...

"The lad is a natural with children," Mirabella commented while she rested in bed. Her eyes followed the large skin-changer who was gleefully nuzzling her newborn while her little Saradas clung to his back like a bur.

"Aye, that he is," agreed Gorbadoc, who was relieved that his wife had had an easy birth and that they had new allies they could count on.

"Shame he wasn't born a hobbit. He's rather dashing for being half animal," Mira said with an appreciative smile and she grinned when her husband sputtered at her. "I jest, my love. He'll make for a lovely babysitter."

Wülf chuckled from his spot on the floor where Amaranth was weaving his new friend a friendship bracelet from flowers and grass he had plucked from the garden. "He does love children and they seem to love him back quite easily. Our younger siblings were practically in tears at our sending-off."

"I can see why," stated Marmadoc while watching the goings-on in the room. Any hobbit could see the gentle heart within the skin-changers. Whether the lads knew it or not, this moment made them honorary Brandybucks for life.


	8. Rites of Spring

For creatures of Middle Earth with a longer longevity, time certainly passed quickly. Often, Luna would wonder where the time had gone since her younger brother Dodinas' birth to her sixty-eighth birthday when all her siblings had been born and were now growing tweens. Shortly after Dodinas came little Asphodel whose hair was more honey than the darker brown of the majority of their siblings. Lastly came tiny Dinodas and Primula, the last fauntlings that her Mama Mirabella said she would ever bring into the world. Seven fauntlings was more than enough since they didn't want to keep expanding the Family Smial any more than they needed to.

To be honest, seven siblings was also more than enough for Luna to wrangle to bed every night. It was why she was currently exhausted after waking late to go over the plans for the next Market Day. Fortunately, she had her Uncle Orgulas, a Master Historian and Scribe in his own right, to double check her plans and to talk with the vendors on their side.

"Luna dear, if you have time to daydream, then surely you have time to keep writing? I don't hear that pen moving across the paper anymore," Uncle Orgulas chided kindly while shuffling the completed drafts for the vendors.

"Dodgy old bat," Luna muttered under her breath and continued her work. She couldn't help but shiver at the uneasy feeling that sat in her stomach. Either the toast she had that morning was bad or something bad was on the way. _Please don't be another bout of fever for my siblings. Last Spring Fever was awful,_ she thought to herself and immersed herself in charts and missives.

The Chubbs were feuding with the Proudfoots.

Again.

They were in constant competition for who sold the best buttons in the Shire and the Chubbs were known for making theirs the most durable, yet the Proudfoots made the most elaborate ones. The two families' booths had to be as far away from the other as possible and tender Hobbit sensibilities be damned, but the two were fierce rivals for the coin of their Dwarven customers.

 _Why can't Adamanta deal with this? She's related to the noisy ones. This work should be delegated to the Old Took. It's his job to keep the peace!_ Luna fought the urge to bash her head onto her desk because she knew it wouldn't help her already vicious headache.

A tapping at her window had her squinting at the light streaming through the glass. Reaching out to undo the latch, she spotted one of her Ravens.

"Yes?"

"Fire in the South Farthing, Mistress. It dun seem nat'ral."

"It's a bit early in the year for them to do a Burning," she noted absently while rubbing at her temples. She was nowhere near done with the preparations and now _this_? Her Adad couldn't take care of it since he was in Hobbiton meeting with the Baggins; she and Orgulas were in Tookborough so they were the closest to handle the problem.

"It is that, Mistress."

Oh, how she wanted to cry from the stress! She was going to get grey hairs before she turned one hundred at this point.

"I'll go investigate, Luna dear. Everything is mostly in order for you to visit the Families and sort the rest of it out. I'll even take the rascals out so you won't have to worry." Orgulas patted her gently on the back and gestured for the squabbling tweens waiting in the sitting room to follow him out.

"Hildigard! Dodinas! Get the ponies ready. We're going to visit the South Farthing and do some investigating. It'll do the two of you some good to learn more about our responsibilities."

"It's far too early for the Burning, Uncle!"

"Should I bring the bows just in case? Mister Raven said the fire wasn't natural."

"I do trust our Raven's judgement, so yes. Some light weaponry wouldn't go amiss on our visit. Now do you remember what I said about being polite to…"

Luna let out a sigh of relief at the sound of their footsteps heading out the door. She was just so wound up and tense that the frustration was murder on her nerves. She let her head drop to the desk; she even let out a gentle trill of content when she felt the Raven affectionately preening her hair. She hadn't lost her ability to communicate with birds as it was a leftover hobby and ability from her previous life.

"Rest a moment, Mistress. If you continue working as you do, you'll start molting," chortled the Raven before gently butting its head against her temple.

"Hilarious," Luna deadpanned but took the advice given and let her body relax.

* * *

She had somehow managed to finish the day's responsibilities and activities with little injury. Although Mama Mirabella was going to have kittens when she saw the bruise on Luna's face after the Unofficial Peacekeeper of Feuding Families attempted to mediate a rather nasty scuffle down by the Market Booths. Luna was going to be feeling this one for quite some time since it was a work table that flew into her face.

Checking the bags loaded on her War Ram, she ran a hand through her disheveled hair and groaned. An amused bleating cut through her sound of distress and she glared at the ram.

"Shut up, Abe."

Abe turned his uncommonly blue gaze towards her with a distasteful stare before turning away while she mounted his back. She supposed she ought to check on her family that had left to investigate the South Farthing as sunset was still a few hours off; she wasn't expected to return to Brandy Hall until tomorrow anyway. She whistled sharply, to which her Raven companion took the cue and flew ahead of her.

"Come on, you stubborn old goat. You can graze for a bit when we reach the South Farthing."

Abe stamped his feet at that and took off at a full run, more than excited to be able to sample the delicious grass he knew awaited him. Luna clutched at his horns for dear life as he stampeded down the dirt paths towards the South; she had little need to direct him since his memory with directions was far better than her own. Also the promise of sweet grass was a great motivator for a ram that was as stubborn as her entire family. The rhythmic sounds of his hooves hitting the ground and the wind whistling in her ears gave her time to think about the future.

She was almost seventy now and only a ways past her Coming of Age for dwarrows. Part of her often wondered when she'd get out of the Sleepy Town Life that was The Shire. Adventuring was in her blood and the wanderlust had started to creep into her thoughts even while she dreamed. She felt like she fully understood her past life's Bilbo's thirst to see and learn all that there was around her. This life's Bilbo had a fraction of the curiosity, but was still eager to learn what was offered to him since he was almost a decade past his own Coming of Age.

Luna frowned at that.

She remembered how Fundin had said that some events hadn't come to pass much like how Erebor was lacking a dragon this time around, but some things _had_ to happen. Thrór was had died in roughly the same manner as before, so that was why she worried over Belladonna Baggins and her family. There had been no hint of a winter so terrible that the Brandywine River would freeze over; they had animal allies that would forewarn them if there were any signs to begin with. Perhaps that was the source of her unease? Everything had been going so smoothly that she had relaxed her guard for some years while she focused on improving the hobbits' defenses.

Defenses that were severely lacking the farther one traveled into Hobbiton and it became painstakingly obvious when her steed skid to a halt at the front gate leading into the South Farthing, which appeared to still be mostly on fire.

Lovely.

The most they'd be able to do is contain the fire as much as they were able; a loss of stock of the pipe weed was easily dismissable when there would be possible hobbit lives at stake.

Holding a handkerchief to her mouth and nose, Luna nudged old Abe with her heel.

"Slowly, old boy. Let's see if we can find where Uncle Orgulas wandered off to."

Abe did as his mistress bid him and meandered down the worn path that led around the fields. Luna was able to track the footfalls of both the pony and her relatives which were layered over another set of odd tracks.

 _These aren't hobbit foot prints._

She had seen them before in her previous life, but had yet to run into them in her current. Just where had she seen them? She kicked her heels and spurred her mount from a measured gate into a full sprint when her Scouting Raven screeched from farther ahead.

"Blood, Mistress!"

Luna let out a curse so foul that it would have shriveled the surrounding shrubbery from such harsh language. That unsettling feeling from before returned tenfold and had her heart pounding in fear.

"Send for Sirius and Wülf! Gather your siblings; whichever ones are nearby is suitable. Have them keep tracking the blood on the trail!"

For the love of Durin, she hoped that her Uncle, brother, and cousin weren't harmed! The Shire she had imagined for so long was still in its infancy and was in no way prepared for any kind of attack. And as they cut through Green Hill country towards the East Farthing, Luna felt her anxiety tug harshly at her paranoia.

 _Something is wrong. Something has gone horribly wrong and we're not ready for it!_

Daylight was fading and Luna had only just caught sight of the blood trail that her Raven had told her about. There was a disturbing amount as the puddles only got larger as they tore through the East Farthing as fast as her ram could take them. They came upon the pony that her Uncle Orgulas had brought with them and it was clearly mutilated and no longer living.

"Oh, Daisy, no!" Luna dismounted from Abe and knelt beside the fallen pony.

Her Uncle's faithful pony had been cut down from her hind flank and penetrated with crudely made arrows from her front. Uncle Orgulas and the boys must have made a run for it as they were nowhere nearby from what she could see.

"Uncle Orgulas! Hildigard! Dodinas!" She shouted, no longer caring that if whatever had preyed upon them and their pony could hear her or not.

"Luna!"

She turned to see Sirius transforming back into his man shape.

"Wülf has gone on ahead of us to track them. He spazzed out once he caught the scent of blood. Have Abe head back home, I'll shift and you ride me while we follow after my brother."

"We better hurry, Sirius. They're all probably injured with the amount of blood I've been tracking since it all couldn't have come from Daisy."

Poor Daisy.

The mild tempered pony didn't deserve such an end as she was one of the original few that had been sent from Rohan.

Sirius' face was grim and nodded.

"Let's go."

Dusk had arrived when they came upon Wülf and the mangled form of Orgulas Brandybuck. Luna was already pulling athelas from a pouch that was strapped to her belt and had tears in her eyes.

"Uncle!" She almost wailed at the sight of him.

The crudely made arrows from before had penetrated his shoulder, arms, and legs. His disfigured hands reached for her and she wanted to scream at the clearly broken and missing fingers. His right eye had also been slashed and his left was also severely damaged.

"Lu..na? I don't...have much time…" he panted as what was left of his hands cupped her teary visage.

"Hush, please! I'll save you and you'll be right as rain in no time," she pleaded with him as she tore her at the hem of her skirt to use as a makeshift bandage.

"They have taken...more than my Mastery...from me," he coughed and blood dribbled from the corner of his lips. "They have...taken the boys. You...must...go after...them…" Orgulas trailed off as his strength began to leave him.

"Uncle! Uncle Orgulas!" Luna shouted in an effort to keep him awake, but she knew he was right and that he wasn't long for this world.

Wülf had his head buried in his hands as he wept for what had become a good friend of his during his time in Buckland. The most they could do for him now was to bring him to a place where he could pass on as comfortably as he could.

"Come along, Little Moonbeam." He lifted the dwobbit up and back onto his brother's back. "We'll bring him to the Great Smials and report this to the Thain. It's too dark for us to track the kidnappers and it isn't safe with your uncle so wounded."

Sirius huffed an agreement with his brother and bore the distraught dwobbit on his back. There was little more they could do here and they needed the counsel of both the Thain and the Master of Buckland if they were to pursue a rescue mission.

* * *

Gerontius Took sat in his armchair, pipe in hand and eyes lost as he stared at nothing. Not moments ago had Luna Brandybuck brought a fatally wounded Orgulas Brandybuck to his doorstep with grim news regarding both one his of sons and one of her siblings. Adamanta had ordered their children to help her prepare a room for Orgulas and to assist her in helping him as best they could while they sent raven messengers for Marmadoc and Gorbadoc as this event called for their attention as well.

They could do nothing but wait until the proper authorities had been called so they could hold a council about what to do. Naturally, they would still make the attempt to rescue their children, but what had him so concerned was the way Luna had slumped to the floor at his feet with a sob as she begged his forgiveness for not protecting their family from coming to harm.

The skinchangers had remained outside the Great Smials to stand guard and watch for their invited guests, but they too had looked utterly distraught when they had reported to him their findings and lack thereof.

Ancestors above, but he suddenly felt old. Never had he thought that such a tragedy could happen within distance of his home and to his own family. So lost in his thoughts was he that he didn't even notice his wife's presence at his side.

"Gerontius," she spoke softly with a defeated tone, "we have done all we can for Orgulas. I fear he will not make it through the night."

The Thain exhaled sharply, his eyes now trained on the Brandybuck lass who lay on his floor in a fitful sleep. There were no words for the grief that burrowed its way into their hearts as they contemplated the grave news of what tragic end awaited one of their oldest friends.

"Orgulas is and has always been a strong lad. He will not pass on without saying his farewells to his family. We must remain calm for the time being and pray to the Green Lady that Hildigard and Dodinas will be returned to us." He said and pulled his wife down to sit upon his armchair with him.

While the Thain and wife spoke quietly above her, Luna lay in a heap and wept quietly. She felt as though she had no breath in her body left to cry as hard as she wanted to, for her mind was racing with just who or what had abducted her brother and cousin. Time slipped away from her and she closed her eyes to try to focus on the memories of her past life to remember those odd tracks she had seen that day. She had fought all kinds of beasts and baddies in her previous life from wargs and giant spiders to Uruk-hai. There was little for her to go on as it had been too dark to determine if enemy blood had been spilled during her Uncle's skirmish and he had not been the most coherent to explain what had happened to them before Luna and her skinchanger friends brought him to the Took Ancestral Home.

Thinking of her Uncle had her heart breaking all over again. Orgulas was a Master in his own right as both a Hobbit and a Dwarf. He was a great historian and diplomat who often reminded her of Fundin, whose counsel she missed most at this hour of need. Whoever had attacked her family had done her uncle a most cruel disservice by destroying his hands and blinding him; she had to count the smallest blessings that his voice had not been stolen from him as well.

 _What use are small blessings while he drifts closer to Hall of Mandos every second? Oh, Uncle._

A sudden insistent knock at the door startled them all from their thoughts and Adamanta was quick to open it.

"Marmadoc!"

"Where is my son?" Came the gruff question from the Master of Buckland who had sped out out of Hobbiton like a bat out of Hell when the raven had relayed the message to him. _By Mahal, no! Not one of his children!_

"Grandfather," Luna whispered and picked herself up off the floor to follow after him. "Where is Adad?"

"He and some of the Tookland Bounders have rode out to pick up the trail left behind by the goblins who took our boys." He replied curtly with an edge of violence in his voice that halted Luna's footsteps.

"Goblins! You're sure?" Adamanta gasped before opening the door that led to the guest bedroom where her patient lay quietly.

The Master of Buckland grunted his confirmation before reaching the bedside of his youngest child where he lay a heavy hand on his child's brow.

"Oh, Inùdoy," Marmadoc used the language of his Dwarven kin freely as the Took's knew of their origins.

"A-Adad? You're here," Orgulas said, relief in his tone. "Amad has been calling from the Halls. Even Luella has been ever at my side, ready to guide me."

Luna's eyes filled with tears at his words.

"Amad?" She whispered and felt the slightest brush against her cheeks and the sensation of a hand stroking her hair.

"You best not keep your guide waiting then. I do not wish for you to continue suffering so," said Marmadoc, his forehead touching that of his son's. "Go now and rest with our family. Mahal watches over us all and may he help heal you of your pain."

As the last breath came from Orgulas, the Master of Buckland sank to his knees and wept into the quilt that covered his son. How was he to tell the news to his other children who resided outside of both Buckland and the Shire? He hadn't felt such sorrow since the passing of his wife Adaldrida many years ago and for a moment, he felt lost.

Unfortunately, there were still other matters that required addressing so he halted his tears and got to his feet. He could grieve later once their current situation was resolved. He may have lost a son, but he would be damned if he lost a grandchild on top of this.

They could not risk sending their full force of Bounders to regroup with his oldest son and the others, but he could send their fiercest. He recognized that beyond his eldest grandchild's broken gaze, there was a fire blazing with justice for the harm dealt to them. Before he had stepped into the Great Smials, his skinchanger friends had knelt and vowed to bring the children home with whatever resources they had. They were one of the few he dared to trust to successfully carry out such a mission as they had speed and endurance on their side.

He would go himself if he could, but he and the Thain needed to remain in the Shire should they be attacked while their strongest would be away. That and he had a feeling that the abduction of two children, who happened to be respective heirs in their own right, would not be the end of this attack. They had much to prepare and organize as the only goblins that resided nearby were those from the Misty Mountains; the very same goblins that the Took ancestor had met in battle all those years ago.

Resting his hands on his grandchild's shoulders, he pressed his forehead to hers to bring her attention to him.

"I know you are hurting, but right now I need you to redirect that pain elsewhere. I need my Azaghîth ready to start her hunt at dawn. The Raven Relay team will assist you so you won't be completely without aid should you need it. You will travel with Sirius and Wülf to rescue Hildigard and Dodinas; I will pack your provisions, so go rest until it is time."

"Yes, grandfather." She said with an undercurrent of steel laced in her voice. She would not fail him in this.

She swore it.

* * *

Morning was a somber affair as not just Luna, but Sirius and Wülf bid their final good-byes to Orgulas, who now lay in a hastily-made funeral box at the back of a cart driven by Marmadoc. He was going to lay his son in their family resting place which was a secret from the rest of the Shire.

Luna wiped at her eyes with her sleeve and nodded at her grandfather. There was no more time for tears as they still had to catch up to her father and the other Bounders. Mags III was going to be their guide as she was the swiftest flyer they had on the Raven Relay and was essential to the communications bit of their mission.

Her grandfather had suspected that the goblins would retreat towards the Misty Mountains, so it was imperative that they reach them before then. Traversing the caves and tunnels there would be impossible if the goblins could get the children that far. Luna had her own suspicions that their enemy would more than likely pause to rest at some point as goblins, much like orcs, held no love for daylight and had to have been extremely lucky to catch hobbits wandering about so late in the day. Surely they would have moved quickly to a location to remain out of sight of the sun and any wandering folk, which narrowed her suspicions down to the Old Forest or mayhap just beyond that to…

 _The Barrow-Downs._

Blind panic seized her heart for a brief moment before she forced herself to breathe through it. Such a haunted place would be perfect for a small band of goblins to hide if they made it through or around the edges of the Old Forest. And goblins were foul enough that the Barrow-wights would probably ignore them for the most part because once her brother and cousin realized where they were, even they would rather hold their tongues than call for help in such a cursed place.

 _Bloody fucking hell._

"Mags!" Luna called out to the raven flying above them. "Where did the Bounders track them to?"

The magpie descended from the sky to fly down to Luna's level.

"North Downs," Mags cawed.

"Mahumb _,_ " Luna swore under her breath and leaned forward to speak into Sirius' ear. "We're going to the North Downs and we need to pick up the pace. I have an idea of where our quarry will be."

A sharp bark was his reply and he growled something to Wülf, who ran beside them and nodded as they took off at full speed towards the North.

It took them most of the morning to locate her father and fellow Bounders who had made camp behind the hills just between the Old Forest and Barrow-Downs. Isengrim III greeted them with a wave followed by a finger to his lips to indicate that silence was needed. The three hunters nodded and followed after the Senior Bounder towards the camp where Luna's father had drawn a miniature map of the Downs.

"Luna, Sirius, Wülf." He greeted them quietly, his eyes red from either lack of sleep or tears. Probably both if the death of his brother had reached him during the night.

"Adad," she gave him a quick hug and sat on the ground beside him. "I thought we didn't know about the structure of the Downs."

"We're not supposed to, but the hobbits I've gathered here have traveled here before for their own reasons. We have a basic layout of the burial mounds, but still we must tread cautiously. The old reports of this place mention there is no set pattern for how the Barrow-wights wander, but the they do attack intruders of the Enemy. We have heard nothing since we arrived, so I believe it's safe to assume the goblins do not know we are trailing them."

It _was_ a relatively safe assumption.

Very few living creatures ever passed this way out of sheer self-preservation. It was the perfect place for allies of the Enemy to rest and regain their strength. It was also why her father had only taken the veteran Bounders with him rather than risk their green recruits who had yet to patrol so far north.

"We've estimated their numbers to be under a dozen, so at most there's at least ten of them. We gathered as much athelas as we could during our rest stops in case one of us becomes injured as a precaution. Any other time, I'd recommend splitting up into groups to flank them, but the goblins are by far the least of our worries. Our primary concern is recovery and retreat; we can retreat safely through the Old Forest as the great Huorns hold no love for goblins and their like. Boys," he spoke directly to the skinchangers, "I'll need you to be in man-form until there's present danger."

After changing back into their humanoid forms, Wülf agreed to the current plan and reassured them that their senses were not dulled by whatever shape they held. He even offered to support the rear for when they entered the Barrow-Downs in case they were to be attacked from behind. Sirius tended to have keener senses for detecting danger and he also had the scents of the missing hobbitlings, so tracking them would be easier at the front with Gorbadoc.

They had little time if they were to reclaim their kin and return home before the sun went down, so they entered the Barrow-Downs as quietly as only creatures such as they were able to. They moved as one, Wülf tapping on their backs when they strayed too close to a mound or a cairn so as not to disturb whatever could be waiting for them. They heard whispers within the light fog, echoes of those who had died in the past, but they ignored them to focus on listening for the ones they sought after.

"Hildigard, are you alright? We have to set it before...well, you know." Dodinas said quietly from where he was tied down.

"It burns a bit, but I think it will be fine. What about you?"

"I'm okay," Dodinas said with a sniffle and painfully shifted over to his cousin. "I'm scared, Hildigard."

"Me too, but-" Hildigard was cut off by a sharp twist to what remained of his ear and he shrieked in pain.

"Quiet, you brats! Make another noise and we'll take another bite out of you!" The lead goblin hissed and gnashed his teeth at them.

"I want my Adad!" Dodinas whined, the stress from the day before finally reached its breaking point.

"I said quiet-hurk!" The goblin gurgled as the strong jaw of a massive wolf clamped over his collarbone and snapped it.

Both hobbit tweens cried out in alarm as the remaining goblins, who had been previously resting, surged to their feet and brandished their rusted swords at the grey wolf that towered over them all.

"Kill it, you fools!" The lead goblin hissed before he was flung aside, his body hitting the ground roughly.

"Not in this lifetime, you rat!" Came the angry roar of Marmadoc whose twin blades easily cut down the nearest goblin. "Isengrim, Gundabald! Take the children and escape on Wülf!"

The two Bounder Squad leaders did as they were commanded and scooped a tween into their arms while Wülf hunched down so they could mount his back.

"Go! I'll cover you!" Luna shouted, notching an arrow and releasing it to pierce a goblin that was trying to sneak up behind them. Looping the string over her shoulder, she unsheathed her sword and stood back to back with her father. There were still at least five or six goblins remaining and they needed to reserve their strength for what the noise of their fighting would bring to them.

"We need one of them alive if possible," her father said just quietly enough for her to hear.

Her hands gripped the hilt of her sword almost painfully as she acknowledged her father's words. Oh, how she just wanted to kill them for killing her Uncle, but they _did_ need the information. There was no way this was just a one-off attack against them.

Paranoia had served their kind well in the past and it would be foolish not to heed it.

The nearby cairns rumbled as a piercing screech cut through the tense atmosphere. Rocks tumbled from above as the screeching rose in pitch and volume.

"Wights!" Gorbadoc gasped through the sheer terror that gripped them.

 _No! Not now!_ Luna turned her head frantically, eyes searching for the greater danger that lurked so closely to them. The knew it would happen, but had fervently prayed it would not come to this.

The cries of the wights sent the goblins scurrying for retreat and Gorbadoc had to make a snap decision.

"Sirius! Take one as a prisoner if you can! We'll meet you back in the Old Forest!"

It spurned his pride to know that he was letting some of the remaining goblins return to their home and say Mahal knew what to their kind, but they had gotten what they came for. It would be a monumental waste to not see their rescue completed!

"Luna! Fallback and cover the escape!" He saw his daughter hesitate, the hate for the goblins a fierce fire in her eyes. "LUNA MAGNOLIA BRANDYBUCK, YOU WILL DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!"

Luna flinched and buried her hate for another time. She turned on her heel and followed after her father, shooting arrows at the wights that began to come for them. They could hear the sounds of battle up ahead through the fog that had become dense during their time there.

"Brother, watch out!"

"HILDIGARD!"

Gorbadoc and Luna stumbled to a halt, their mouths open in silent horror at what awaited them. Wülf had been cut up from defending the tweens as best he could; Gundabald threw his throwing axes at the wights that got too close, then raised his warhammer over his head to strike the 'body' of another wight. Isengrim was on the ground, his hands empty of weapons as he pleaded with the two wights that held his younger brother aloft above them. His brother had shoved him out of the way of the path of a rusted sword meant for his neck; a sword which Hildigard took to his ribs.

"No, please! Please not my brother! Please!"

Hildegard felt so cold and his body hurt so badly. He could hear the begging of his eldest brother and turned his head slowly to catch sigh of the wights that held him. He wished he hadn't looked, for the sinister look in their undead eyes frightened him terribly to the point of tears. He wailed in pain as their menacing grasp on his arms tightened further.

"HILDIGARD, NO! PLEASE I'LL DO ANYTHING! PLEASE, YOU'RE KILLING HIM!" Isengrim cried out helplessly, his hands once again grasping his swords to attack. Begging wasn't helping, so he could at least cut down the undead bastards killing his little brother.

"I-Isengrim I'm scared-"

There was a sickening squelching noise as flesh was torn asunder. Bones and blood rained down from above as they all screamed at the sight of the hobbit tween that was once Hildigard Took fell to the ground in dripping red pieces and rags.

Isengrim's legs turned to jelly and he fell forward onto his hand and knees. The scream wrenched from the anguish in his heart drowned out the sinister laughter of the Barrow-wights who were delighted with the mess they had made.

Luna would never forget the sight of one of her dearest cousins dismembered before her. Nor would she ever forget the way her father and granduncle charged forward in a blind rage, their teeth bared as they fought with everything they had.

"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" They shouted as one and the old battle cry roused something violent within her.

Joining the fray, she paid little attention the wounds she received as her instincts were screaming for her to fight. To avenge.

To _kill._

Like berserkers, they attacked relentlessly until there were no more Barrow-wights to be found and the dense fog that had once permeated the Barrow-Downs had lifted. What broke them from their Battle-Lust was the muffled sobbing of Dodinas Brandybuck, who had his face pressed against Wülf's thick pelt.

Gorbadoc sank down to his knees, his body feeling every bit of its one hundred years. He hadn't lost his wits like that since the death of his Luella where he had flew into such a rage that it took a sword hilt to the back of his head from his father to snap him out of it.

His Uncle patted him on the shoulder and took careful steps towards the frightened tween who had managed to survive. Gundabald patted Wülf on the head and even scratched behind his ears in thanks for protecting his kin.

"Good lad. I'll take the wee one from here." He lifted the whimpering Dodinas up and cradled him gently against the armor plating across his chest. "There now, Akhûnîth. Uncle Gunda has you and you're safe at last."

He nudged Wülf with his shoulder and tilted his head towards the Old Forest.

"Let's go meet up with yer brother. Gorba will take care of things here."

Wülf let out a soft whine at the sight that lay behind him before letting out a low, mournful howl to signal his brother that they were returning. Internally, Remus cried every step of the way back to the Forest for the life that was cut short far too soon.

Luna stared at the mess of withered bodies that littered the ground around them. Her eyes focusing on anything but the red stain that sunk into the ground in front of Isengrim and bit back the bile rising up in her throat. She wouldn't let herself be sick here; not where she knew would be the final resting place of her younger cousin. Sheathing her sword, she nodded once to her father and headed for the outskirts of the Barrow-Downs to wait for them.

Gorba watched his eldest child leave to give the two of them privacy. Sighing heavily, he removed a glove from his hand and placed his palm onto the ground and used his stone sense to search for an area with a softness to it. He wouldn't dare bury a Took's remains encased in rock, but suitable soil would be far more respectful.

Finding the area he was looking for, he dug through the pack that had been strapped to his back for the pan they had used when they had camped. He may be a warrior, but his roots as a farmer still guided him.

This was good soil.

He started digging, doing his best to ignore the sobbing that turned into dry heaving behind him. He would let Isengrim grieve as much as he wanted to and softly began humming a song of mourning. He knew not the words, but the tune was as clear as the day he heard it during his grandmother's funeral.

He heard Isengrim move behind him, heard the slow shuffle of footsteps and saw the younger hobbit deposit his sibling's remains into the growing hole. Still, he said nothing but continued his humming. He certainly felt a great deal of sympathy for Isengrim as it had not even been a full day since Orgulas' passing.

This was indeed a day for grieving.

Their return to Brandybuck Hall was infinitely more dismal than their leave from the Great Smials. Thank Yavanna that no one had thought to throw them a Welcoming Party as was the Hobbit way, but most of those that resided in Buckland were of Dwarven descent and knew what may or may not be returning to them.

Gerontius, Marmadoc, Adamanta, and Mirabella stood before the grand doors of the Brandy Hall, their eyes desperately searching for the ones they had lost the day before. When Isengrim knelt before his parents and sister, the three Took's cried out in horror and sorrow after he explained where Hildigard was buried. Marmadoc ushered the Took family into an alcove within the Hall, leaving them with tea and blankets while they mourned the loss of a child.

Hildigard was such a good lad. He was proficient in archery and had repeatedly spoken of his wishes to serve as one of the Bounders of Tookborough; something they had all been proud of him for.

"Adad," said Gorbadoc who was gesturing to his father from the table they had laid a slumbering and wounded Dodinas.

Luna and Gundabald were cleaning the tween's wounds in silence, their eyes as heavy as their hearts must be.

"My nidoyel, so you have returned to me. What news do you bring?" Marmadoc said, his voice still rather hoarse from the tantrum he had thrown in his forge while he was awaiting their return.

Gorbadoc rubbed his face with his hands, unsure of how to tell his father what his own son had told them in bits and pieces during their return journey.

"Well? Out with it, boy."

Luna saw her father hesitate to speak and paused from her ministrations to pull her grandfather aside.

"What Adad can't say is something both the Thain and Master of Buckland need to hear. The news is that grave," she whispered.

"Understood. Gunda, let Mira and Adamanta to care for Dodinas. Tell Gerontius to meet with me in the Den. You'll be his guide," he instructed his younger cousin.

Grabbing both his son and granddaughter, he led them through the hall and down the corridor towards the Family Library. He ran his hands along the edge of one of the shelves until he found what he was looking for: a well-worn groove hidden behind one of the support beams of the shelves. Pulling with all his strength, his family stood shocked as not just the shelves, but the wooden floor rotated with the Master's motions.

"What in the name of Durin…?" Gorbadoc had never seen such a thing before! At least not in his own ancestral home!

"You weren't to be told of this until your hundred-fiftieth birthday where I would deliver to you the second offer of becoming the Master of Buckland. You know that Gunda already turned me down decades ago, but family tradition and all that. Now come along and watch your head!" He cautioned them while gingerly finding the winding stone steps down into the Den.

To Gorbadoc's surprise, he could see fairly well in the darkness that led them to what could have been a cellar for all he knew. His daughter seemed more surefooted than he and he fixed his gaze at the back of his father's head.

"Don't look at me like that. You know she followed me everywhere as a child. You're just upset she found it before you," Marmadoc kept the mood light as he searched for the flintrock and slab of steel he kept nearby the oil lamps. "Aha. And there we go," he said, striking the rock against the steel so the smallest spark would ignite the oil running between the grooves carved into the stone beside the walls.

The room became illuminated within seconds and Gorbadoc felt his jaw drop at the murals carved into the stone walls.

"Adad, is this-"

"I'm fine, my friend. These steps just weren't made for an old hobbit with a cane!"

Marmadoc shook his head at his son; they would speak of the history of the murals at another time. Right now, they had important matters to attend to.

"Yer not as feeble as you let on, Gerontius, and you know it," grumbled an amused Gundabald.

"Hush you. Marmadoc! Tell me what is so important that I must part with my grieving wife and daughter," the Thain ordered once he was seated on at the small table in the center of the room.

"Yes, Gorbadoc. Do tell us," Marmadoc turned his stern gaze on his son, who suddenly felt like a fauntling in the presence of the two ruling hobbits.

"Dodinas heard the plans of the goblins who captured him. They're going to invade the Shire per the orders of their Master," he forced the words out. "Furthermore, the single goblin we captured refused to talk, but only confirmed what we knew and its companions escaped. We can only hope they won't be able to return to the Misty Mountains for some time before they launch their attack. They aren't just coming for our children either, Adad, they're coming for all of us."

With every word uttered from his lips, Gorbadoc watched his father's features harden and the Master of Brandybuck was grinding his teeth so loudly they all cringed at the sound.

"Well," Gerontius huffed and thumped his cane on the floor. "That's just...well! Who knew that goblins could carry such long grudges!"

"Sir, are you speaking of the Battle of Greenfields?" Luna asked aloud. She knew that's what the elder hobbit was most likely speaking of, but a part of her feared some greater conspiracy was at hand here.

"Indeed I am, my dear girl. Bandoboras _did_ decapitate their king after all! Bit of a hard thing for anyone to forget, really," the Old Took added absently before he turned his attention to Marmadoc. "You allowed them to join us as your witnesses, didn't you?"

"Witnesses? Adad, what is he talking about? Luna, surely you must know-"

"Contrary to what _you_ think, Adad, I'm not privy to every bit of history grandfather knows."

"Don't take that tone with me, Bundushathûr!"

"I don't know the meaning of that one, but it sounded like an insult. Granduncle Gunda, did Adad just _insult_ me?"

"Shazara!" Marmadoc roared loud enough to make the walls rattle. Turning to Gerontius, he nodded. "They're both young and foolish, but yes, they are my witnesses. What say you, Gerontius Took, Thain and Steward of the Shire?"

Gerontius stood on his feet without the aid of his cane, placed a fist over his heart and knelt. "As my lord commands, so it shall be done. Your orders, Melhekhel?"

"Call them home."

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations**

Adad - father

Amad - mother

Azaghîth – Little warrior

Akhûnîth – young man

Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu! - Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!

Bundushathûr - Cloudyhead

Inùdoy - son

Mahumb - shit

Melhekhel - King of all Kings

Nidoyel – boy of all boys  
Shazara – silence


End file.
